


Howling Ghosts

by brutalfreeze



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutalfreeze/pseuds/brutalfreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after Hawke abandons the position of viscount in Kirkwall? Varric mentions only her love interest remains at her side. This is their journey. [Work in progress]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

His life had begun in the Tevinter Imperium. If one counted a 'life' as consisting only of constant agony, torture, humiliation, and indentured servitude. No, true life is the one that he led now beside his Champion, it was merely the memories that had begun in that foul place.

Just how long that life would last now remained to be seen.

And now, facing the _dokkal_ , he realized just how wrong he was in assuming there could be nothing worse than a blood mage.

Where had it all gone wrong?


	2. Chapter One

Fenris's eyes, the color of a pale, naked spring grass, mirrored the hot springs' strange glittering glow that filled the cave. Perhaps they were lyrium springs, a touch of magic infused in the waters that made their depths glow an eerie blue. He'd never had any tolerance for magic or the users that harnessed it, but for nature he would allow this one little miracle in the midst of a never-ending cycle of violence and pain resulting from the power-hungry mages.

"Oh, if only I could put one of these hot pools on a ship. Just look at the effect it's having on my tits!" Isabela's brassy voice bounced around the stalactites and stalagmites from the adjoined cave.

He supposed this is something that most men would instantly respond to—and Sebastian, Bodahn, and even the simple-minded Sandal indeed laughed—but Fenris found himself sneering at Isabela's feigned ignorance. Just as most humans and mages, she knew exactly the effect she had on others and used it to her advantage.

The voices faded away to dull background noise as he dared a glance over at the pale, gleaming body suspended in the pool beside the one he occupied. The steamy water matted Elesee's silvery-blond hair to her head and presented a darker color as it floated weightlessly around her face like leaves adorning a flower.

How a woman seemingly made out of bent and refracting light could disappear in the blink of an eye was beyond him. Perhaps it was the blood from her apostate father coursing through her veins that made her skills a touch on the magical side.

It was as well, Fenris suffered the same fate.

Despite all Elesee's skills, she still had paper-thin scars that shone her testament to many hard-won battles all throughout the sunset peach of her skin. He wanted to kiss each and every one and soothe all the pain she had known in her life, just as she constantly soothed away his.

He wanted to say this, or something—anything—to her. This woman had been with and behind him for several years now and had been the only he could truly call an ally, a friend, and eventually, twice, lover.

This was the first quiet moment they had since they'd run from her Viscount position in Kirkwall after the rebellion of the Circles.

That was a lie. They had several moments, flashes really, in which he could have said something. More years on the run than he could count now, facing countless enemies and darkspawn, facing down a Qunari Arashok, and he couldn't find the courage to merely say a few words to the woman that had stolen his heart?

If he did say anything, would she hear him through the muffle of the water? Surely a former-mercenary and assassin would be able to hear his smoky voice through the mere film of water. But would their conversation truly be private with the echoes bouncing between the different sections of the caves?

This was childish. He could and _would_ speak to her. He wasn't afraid…

"Elesee," he blurted out, unable to stand it any longer, "I—Isabela!"

Fenris made out a flash of tan buttocks disappearing in an elegant arc into his pool before the water splashed him in the face. The hot droplets stung his eyes and dripped down the white bangs that framed his face.

Isabela's lithe form underwater was a pale streak shooting towards his pelvis with an outstretched hand. Before she could make any contact, he leaped to the side and caught her frail wrist in his calloused and scarred fingers. Her face appeared above the water the next moment, a coy smile making her dark eyes black in shadow.

"Looks like _someone_ is enjoying the view," the former piratess purred demurely, stroking her free hand down her rather large breasts. "If I had known that _both_ your swords are two-handed—"

"Not another word to slip out of those lips," he growled, his dark brows lowering intently.

"Well there is something I'd like to slip _in_ my lips. And I'm not talking about the lips on my face, either," Isabela teased. "Well, maybe the lips on my face, too."

She was beyond irritating, like a Mabari pup yapping away at his heels.

"Your… lips have been slipped in one too many times for my liking, Isabela. Sometimes by more than one poor lad at a time. Yours is not a ship I would ever sail on."

"So if it's not the view on this side that has your mast raised, that means—" and her dark eyes flitted over to the twin pool.

But Elesee was nowhere in sight. Even her armor, blades, and shortbow had disappeared from beside the pool.

"Ah, there, see? I knew you always wanted sail my seas."

Fenris released Isabela abruptly, having briefly forgotten her presence. Her teeth gleamed like jewels as she smiled at him while looming dangerously close. Before she could corner him any further, he hoisted himself out of the water.

This time he made sure to keep his backside to her.

Her ensuing whistle was sharp and teasing. "Love this view myself" trailed after Fenris as he ran through the maze of the cave tunnels towards where they had setup a fire. He paused to slip on his attire. The thick leathers slid over his scars like sandpaper. He had to grip the cave wall to keep from crying out.

Despite the agonizing pain, he placed one foot in front of the other and continued on his path. Each step felt like a swift kick to the gut and as though his former slaver was in the process of drawing a thousand razor blades over each vein slowly and carefully.

The light cascaded through the opening at the top of the cave and mashed with the oranges and reds from the campfire. Condensation from the rain in the skylight dripped into the fire and hissed like darkspawn spirits were trapped there. Blankets made a circle around the pit and what meager belongings the troupe had brought with them.

But Elesee was not there.

His gaze fell to the cave entrance where he could see sheets of rain and, beyond that, the feint outline of a shadow moving amongst the trees.

He tried to make his presence known as he approached. To sneak upon a rogue quietly was to sign your death.

The cool rain was a balm against the scars on his arms and hands. His gloves were tucked away in the satchel kept strapped to his back, beneath his sword. He had no use for them unless in a battle. And this was a different kind of war, won without weapons.

When he was within a few paces, Elesee's eyes flicked to his face briefly, a sky of white with a quick lightning strike of cobalt and yellow. He stood behind her and watched her thin, curved dragon bone blade—which she lovingly called _Wicked Fang_ —move like a whisper as it sliced easily through roots. She grabbed out the fleshy root hearts and captured the flowers' salves in a small vial reserved for potion-making.

Her face remained a neutral blank that wounded him more than he thought such a simple thing could.

Elesee stood upright, facing the trees away from him. She announced, "There was an elfroot patch we had passed two days ago. It's about fifty stride paces into the forest. Any help would be appreciated, if you desire to give it."

The Champion-turned-viscount-now-fugitive did not wait for her lover's response. Not that she ever expected one. Fenris admired her casual embrace of his quiet demeanor. She would always ask, but never demanded.

The elfroot patch was indeed abundant. He detested potions, and health potions were at the top of the list. They could restore what was previously something he sought to destroy.

Besides that, he preferred the pain and suffering that came with living through an injury, a reminder he was alive and feeling. He would treat his wounds by natural devices only. Not that an injury was a frequent occurrence. Mostly he could just phase through a blade or an arrow and come out unharmed. But he knew Elesee could not, so he helped her gather the elfroot without a regret or complaint.

The flower faces had to have a particular shade of red streaks to reach the greatest potency; she had informed him long ago. He only gave her the deepest crimson elfroot he could find.

They gathered in companionable silence for some time. Neither breached the foot gap between them, though both physically ached to do so.

At long last, Elesee took a breath and turned to face Fenris.

"I left so you could have privacy with Isabela," she explained, though he had not asked.

Her eyes were trained on the root in her fist. Fenris wished for just a moment she would meet his gaze so he could convey to her just how he felt about her. Not Isabela, nor Aveline, the blood mage Merrill, not all the whores of Kirkwall. It had always been her and only her.

But she would not meet his intent stare.

"I have no need for private moments with anyone but you… and possibly that bastard Danarius," Fenris insisted. "If he were to escape death again, I'd gladly kill him until there was no hope for life ever returning to the scraps his body would be in. May the darkspawn keep him in the Fade."

He never wavered in looking from Elesee's eyes, although she would not meet his gaze. Years before, he had once found their pallor unnerving: pure indigo lanced with ribbons of bright daffolion yellow. Her silver-dusted lashes fluttered briefly before she grinned, a quick lifting of the corner of her mouth.

"Agreed. I just… only thought—because…. You haven't been wearing your wrist cuff," Elesee pointed out and her eyes inspected the barren spot on his left wrist.

It took him a moment to realize she meant the red wristband marked with her family crest. Elesee had never asked Fenris to adorn the symbolic wrist cuff, but he had never had a problem with showing his affection openly. He had grudgingly locked it away as soon as they had abandoned Kirkwall as a means of avoiding notice. Information could be sold to hunters and Chantry seekers and a detail like that would stand out.

He explained this and the relief resulting was evident in her stance, though she tried not to show it in her face. Fenris knew better, had studied her movements.

"Just because I cannot wear your mark does not mean it is no longer there. Your marks are just as strong and powerful as the ones Danarius inflicted upon me. Yours, however, are considerably less painful. Pleasant, even."

Then she finally unleashed her gaze onto his. As always, he was shocked by her intensity and sincerity.

"Fenris," Elesee sighed. "I don't want to _own_ you. If you wish to leave, I will ask you but once to stay. If you say no, I will not press the matter. Your life is your own. I merely wish to be a part in it."

"I appreciate the thought, truly. However, you are gravely wrong if you think you are a mere piece of my life. You are a vast mountain in a land of hills. My heart is yours so, in a way, you do own me. The deepest part of me that I willingly give away. To question my intent to stay is incomprehensible. I am still here with no intentions of leaving and no desire to do so," Fenris proclaimed emphatically. Then, quietly added, " _Especially_ not for another woman."

The shine in her eyes held the same dancing flashes of the gleam of her blades in battle.

In that moment, almost as if a witch nearby had lifted her spell, the rain that had been unforgiving in drenching the land for three long days and nights merely stopped. There was no trickling to a halt, only vanishing the same way Elesee stealthed.

Elesee looked up in wonder. Just as her lips parted to comment on the oddity of such a thing, he crushed his mouth against hers.

She responded to his spark with an ignited passion that flared immediately. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him desperately to her as her mouth opened to the exploration of his tongue. His hand traveled to the back of her head, reveling briefly in the silky softness of her hair, and held her there as he took her lips captive.

Just as the kiss had begun abruptly, Fenris pulled back in a dash. His mouth felt swollen with the force of the kiss, where her teeth had grazed. He kept a hand locked in hers, unable to stop touching her at least in this small form.

Her pupils kept undulating until finally resuming a normal state. When he was certain the cloud of desire had eased, he rested his forehead against hers in a meeting of tan and sunset peach, white on silver-blond.

"What's wrong? Is it the lyrium scars? Do they hurt?" Elesee asked gently and loosened her grip on his hand. He clenched her tiny framed fingers in his much larger grip, not willing to let her go.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just—I need to tell you something."

"Whenever you're ready." She waited patiently, her eyes searching his.

The words were dredged up from somewhere deep in the confines of his memory from _before._ A ceremonial exchange of words whose meaning she undoubtedly would not understand.

He placed their adjoined hands over his steadfast beating heart.

 _"in sethenaran virmenden virnasu_

 _endasin shiral melanal_

 _uthen aradin elvahten dinen_

 _ardarel'na emma la emma ardarel'ma_

 _uthen helavelen arlatha allam uth_

 _ma'arlathona uth dasenuthen_

 _ma arsalin aravel,_ Elesee Hawke."

It was a pledge, a promise, a vow of fealty and lasting love. Of lives forever entwined. He would not speak the language of the Dalish unless given a significant cause. Elesee, his champion, his companion, his mate... yes, she was more than enough of a reason.

The ceremonial words, however, would be incomplete unless she finished the second half of the vow. She would be as tied to him as he was to her when that transpired. One day, when she was ready, they would complete the ceremony in its entirety. He was sure of it.

"It's beautiful. Is it poetry?"she asked through a smile. "You never struck me as one to recite poetry to women."

"I suppose in a way it can be poetry. It means I am the bow to your string. Together, we work in harmony. Separately we are incomplete. The meaning is similar."

"You know I can tell when you are lying," she reminded him.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slightly uneven smile. He knew. "It means: _ma'arlath uth dasenuthen_. 'I love you in all ways always.'"

"Fenris," she breathed his name sweetly against his face. When she said it like that, the harsh memories tied to the origin of his name fell into the Fade. "Marlath oo danten?"

He laughed a dark, rich laugh that he knew gave her goose bumps. She blushed but never took her gaze from his.

She did love him. And he loved her. This was something he would never be able to deny.

When they lay amidst the elfroot, the red tinted their armor. And then, as he made love to her, their skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters copyright their respective owners – BioWare/EA—although I wished Fenris would be mine XD
> 
> I altered the text of his vow to make sure that it corresponds more correctly with the DA version of elvish instead of my own (awesome, in my opinion) Elvhan language :P Oh well, maybe it will make some of us technical nerdies happy lol ^^
> 
> The meaning goes as such:
> 
> "In the Great Wake,  
> We shall take the path together  
> through the journey of time  
> Long sleep will not make  
> our roots untwine  
> Lasting as the Creators  
> my breath shall be yours  
> and yours mine  
> I shall love you in all ways always  
> This I vow to you, Elesee Hawke."
> 
> Music: "Autumn" by Ryan Stewart & "Glass Vase, Cello Case" by Tattle Tale


	3. Howling Ghosts Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she awoke, Elesee's eyes were immediately drawn to the rise and fall of Fenris's chest. The lyrium scars were pronounced against the smooth apricot skin. The feint magical blue of lyrium made the raised skin silvery in appearance. Her fingertips traced the center of his chest where the scars conjoined in a thick mass. His resulting sharp intake of breath within his sleep and the twitch of his leg made the rogue withdraw her hand from the tender skin.

When she awoke, Elesee's eyes were immediately drawn to the rise and fall of Fenris's chest. The lyrium scars were pronounced against the smooth apricot skin. The feint magical blue of lyrium made the raised skin silvery in appearance. Her fingertips traced the center of his chest where the scars conjoined in a thick mass. His resulting sharp intake of breath within his sleep and the twitch of his leg made the rogue withdraw her hand from the tender skin.

She stroked a stray tendril of snow-white hair out of his eyes while murmuring, "It's all right."

The crease in his brow smoothed once more and he resumed his peaceful slumber.

A branch rustled unnaturally a few yards overhead from an overlook. Without hesitation, Elesee had _Screaming Wind_ whistling through the air with dead-on accuracy towards the sound. _Wicked Fang_ was held in her main hand, cocked in a defensive stance above Fenris. She couldn't and wouldn't stealth with Fenris sleeping in plain view but she would destroy anyone who came within fifty paces of harming him.

But when she flicked her gaze towards him, he had gone quiet with one outstretched hand crawling towards the hilt of his sword. He'd woken after all.

 _Screaming Wind's_ cry as it sliced through the air on its return to its owner made Elesee's hand reach out from instinct. The boomerang dagger's handle landed expertly in her grip. The familiarity of it in her offhand was reassuring. The fact that no blood covered the S-shaped blade was not.

" _This_ is certainly not how I expected to find you two. Finally got to explore your roots, did you, Fenris?" Isabela's voice tinkled down from an overhanging tree branch from the overlook.

Fenris did not lower his sword. In fact, he had a rather murderous gleam in his eye but still had the mind to cover his most intimate parts with a nearby piece of armor.

"Just so you know," Isabela informed the Champion, "you nearly took my damn head off."

There was a rather spacious gap missing from the tree above the pirate's head.

"I'm sorry I missed," Elesee shot back.

"You didn't. I ducked just in time for a piece of my head wrap to go missing. You owe me for that one, Hawke." Her amber gaze swiveled to target Fenris. "You could point that sword a little lower—"

Fenris glared and moved into an attack stance.

"Isabela…" Elesee warned.

"Sorry, sorry. I can't help it. You're a lucky woman, Hawke. It's not often you find an elf with such impressive… talents. I'll just return to the others and tell Aveline—"

"Aveline and Orana have returned?" Elesee asked.

"For the love of Andraste, turn around so I can dress!" Fenris snarled at the leering seductress making suggestive gestures with the tree branch.

"Don't worry, you two! Neither of you have something I haven't seen before."

"If you don't turn around _right now,_ I swear I _will_ skewer you to that tree, you bloody sea wench!"

"Ugh, fine. I wonder why Danarius didn't name you something more appropriate like 'Broody' or 'Has-Anger-Problems."

With that, Isabela rolled her eyes and gracefully leapt down from the branch into an elegant rolling somersault before catching herself in a wide-legged stance with one hand resting on the ground. She rose and clucked her tongue when Fenris raised his sword overhead, then finally turned to face the opposite direction.

"Were you both really planning on fighting me while naked?" Isabela called over her shoulder as the two hurried to dress. "I'd _happily_ take both of you on at once."

Elesee shook her head at Fenris when he took a silent step in Isabela's direction. He grunted in frustration and slid his gloves in place.

Just as Elesee began to strap the last blade sheath to her back, Fenris's hands were there, securing the straps. His hand lingered briefly on her bare shoulder, the touch encompassing a message of all the emotions he wished to convey regarding their intimate encounter. Elesee responded with a smile that warmed her from the core and a brief meeting of fingertips to the back of his hand. His eyes loomed hotly on her face.

"If you two are done making eyes at one another, can we please hurry it along? Aveline has news."

"How did you know we weren't still naked?" Elesee asked as they began their traipse to the caves. "I don't remember telling you to turn back around."

"I peeked. What? I couldn't help just one last wistful glance."

Before Isabela, or even Elesee, had time to react, Fenris's foot kicked out to the side. Catching Isabela unawares, she landed face-first in a heaping pile of _halla_ droppings.

Elesee didn't think she had seen Fenris laugh so much the entire time she had known him. By the time they returned to the caves, his laughter still echoed in her ears.

-X-X-X-X-

"Greetings, Mistress."

Orana curtsied as Hawke and Fenris joined the group standing outside the caves.

Elesee sighed. Her manservant had been offered freedom but had yet to take her up on the opportunity. But Sandal adored her, Bodahn was gentle with her, and Fenris had affection for her that had bordered on brotherly. As a result, Elesee saw no problems with her remaining in the party as long as she stayed on as an equal. That feat had yet to be accomplished, even with Fenris's aide.

"Orana, you're no longer a servant," Fenris reminded the elf woman.

Orana's elven eyes widened before she shook her head in disbelief. "You continue to provide me with food and shelter. I gladly service you, messere."

Isabela chuckled. Fenris shot a death glare in her rather putrid-smelling direction.

Finally with a respite in conversation, Elesee turned to one of her longest standing allies. She clasped Aveline's forearm and the gesture was warmly returned.

"Hawke. Fenris." Aveline nodded to each.

"Might I say you look a particular shade of extraordinary in that dress, Aveline," Sebastian stated in a smooth voice.

Aveline blushed a red so deep the line between her roots and skin were lost. Though the compliment was well-warranted; standing next to her husband, Donnic, in the dress she'd disguised herself in, her appearance had become less gaunt and much more feminine.

"All right," Isabela cut in impatiently. "I love small talk as much as the next pirate, but you have news, Aveline. Have you gotten my— _a_ ship?"

The blush immediately disappeared from Aveline's face as she once more returned to business. "Yes, the ship has been secured. Though I had to pay for the dock master's silence, plus additional costs he had added towards the ship after he saw my purse. Nevertheless, the ship is ours and now we just have to make our next move."

"Yes, just what exactly _is_ our next move?" Sebastian wondered. The archer's arms were folded over his lean, muscled chest.

"Like to know that meself, messere," Bodahn added. "We was hoping to go east to Orlais so Sandal can do his enchanting for the Empress."

Fenris remained quiet but Elesee was sure she could feel his eyes regarding her curiously. His smoldering, green-eyed stare had enough power in order to make her skin as hot as if she'd stepped into a flamespell. She practically burned with all the attention the remaining members of her troupe now pointed at her.

"I have given this a great amount of thought," the Champion announced, turning her gaze from one member to the next. Her indigo stared was pointed at Fenris as she said, "I know some of you will not want to make this journey with me. Every major party in all of Thedas is hot on our trail. Our pictures, faces, descriptions are known by assassins, vagabonds, and the Chantry alike. Even the Divine herself could be after us at this point…

"So, that leaves us with only one remaining option: we must leave the known lands of Thedas. We must travel south, beyond the Arbor Wilds. I plan on beseeching Flemeth for aide once we arrive. Surely, when we are near her territory, she will seek us out."

"You plan on enlisting the aid of a witch?" Fenris replied hotly. His lyrium markings flared to life, the blue bathing the immediate area in an azure flame. "We need no help from magic users any longer. I spent more than enough time with the last two, and now you want, once more, to become indebted to an ancient mage?"

"I, too, have my doubts about that strange woman. Remember that the last time you owed her a favor," Aveline prompted, her thin lips set in a tight line, "the witch tricked us. I don't like this, Hawke."

"We don't have any other options," Elesee sighed. She knew Fenris would react this way. It had been a hard decision, but necessary. She desperately wanted to keep her lover safe, at all costs. "Anywhere else—Ferelden, Orlais, Tevinter, Antiva, even Par Valas—we _will_ be noticed. You've said so yourself, Fenris: You don't exactly blend in.

"And how many other troupes do you know containing such a strange band of allies? We're an unlikely bunch. And that sets us apart. We need to go somewhere far, where no one will ever be able to recognize us and carry our descriptions to waiting ears."

"I see no point in asking Flemeth for assistance," Fenris pressed, his tone growing cooler by the second. Frost practically dripped from his lips. "We've managed this far without magical help. Merrill has long since been returned to the Dalish. And that fool, Anders, was captured by the Templars after blowing up the Chantry. _Good riddance_. We can make this journey ourselves, _unassisted_."

"And what exactly is beyond the Arbor Wilds? Do you know, Hawke? I've heard that's where the darkspawn continually spew from," Donnic added, a calming hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Will we be venturing into the heart of the dragon itself?" Sebastian wondered, one sleek brow raised high. "The Archdemon was defeated but I have heard rumors there are still nests of dragons near the lands of ash and fire."

Isabela unsheathed a hidden knife between her breasts. "Excellent! I've been wanting to get my hands on a good dragonbone blade like the one Hawke has."

Elesee turned to Bodahn, Sandal, and Olana. All had remained silent thus far. "How do you feel about this?"

"I had feared you might make a choice like this," the dwarven merchant sighed. Elesee felt her heart stutter in a short moment of loss at the words she knew would come. "Don't see much other option for you, though. Still, I'd had hope. But… if this is your wish, I suppose this is as good a time as any for my boy, Sandal, and me to begin that trip to Orlais."

"Enchantment?" Sandal asked Bodahn in his simple way.

"Yes, my boy, Orlais is where the Empress herself wishes to have your Enchantment skills put to work. What do you say to that?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal cried out happily and rubbed his wide dwarven fingers over the smooth face of a runic stone. "It's shiny."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Hawke, Master Fenris. It has been an honor." The stout dwarf turned towards the elf woman at least two heads taller than he. Olana's eyes were shiny with unshed tears as she regarded him. "You can come with us, if you'd like. Sandal and I could use a good lute player to attract the customers. We can try to find your Papa, too, if that'd be something you'd like to do."

"Truly?" Olana uttered, one dainty hand pressed against her breast.

"Absolutely," Bodahn insisted. "Long as it's all right with Mistress Hawke, of course."

Olana turned on heel and strode towards Elesee with purpose in her step that had never truly been in place before. She bowed her head before her former Mistress, her arms spanned wide in a gesture of pleading.

"Messeres, I wish to travel to Orlais with Master Bodahn and Master Sandal. Do I have your permission?"

Fenris took a step towards the elf that so reminded him of the journey he had taken from slave to his own master. Wistful sorrow and pride mixed amongst his features and stance. "I wish you safety and peace in your journey. May the Maker watch over you on your path."

"You will be missed. Thank you for all your services, Orana. I hope you find your Papa," Elesee agreed gently. She hugged the elven woman briefly, which caught her by surprise. Orana smiled once before darting off back into the caves after Bodahn and Sandal.

Sebastian was the first to speak up after the three had departed. "So, where to first, Hawke?"

"First," Elesee declared, "we set sail to the Heartlands."

Thus, the journey into uncharted territories had begun.

* * *

Characters copyright their respective owners – BioWare/EA

Chapter Soundtrack: "Hymn of the Celts" by Tim Aur to get the idea going of a vast land and foreign journey.


	4. Howling Ghosts Chapter 3

Isabela had transformed once she saw the boat: a beautiful, longdeck Orlesian merchant vessel. The ship strained against its anchor, ready to set sail.

"Don't touch the ship before I check it over first," she snapped at the others before climbing aboard.

Her hands stroked along the intricate gold filigree detail that matched the golden insignia threaded into the billowing red sails. She caressed the ship as if it were an old lover with which she had been reunited.

Fenris watched as the piratess checked each line of rope carefully, even retying some of the knots along the way.

"If I'd known," he said, "that _this_ was all it would take to shut her up, I would have purchased a boat for her long ago." They were the first words he had uttered since the short argument near the caves.

Aveline agreed with a short, "Indeed."

"This is perfect," Isabela shouted once she'd completed her inspection. "A little smaller than I'd like, but we will get there in no time. Orlesians are experts in boat crafting."

"I'm aware," Sebastian stated, eyeing the insignia warily.

"Get on, Hawke… Ha! You don't know how long I've wanted to say that."

Elesee shook her head and joined as the party shuffled onto the deck. Isabela prattled on about the speed of an Orlesian vessel, her tone suggesting double meanings.

Fenris disappeared below decks to stow his bag of belongings while Elesee watched him carefully. He'd been too quiet since she had announced her plans.

"Little do you know, Donnic, your wife chose this ship with dishonorable intentions!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aveline huffed.

"There's only three beds!" Isabela laughed at everyone's stunned silence. Her attitude depicted a woman having been given two treats instead of just one. "Two to a bed."

"I don't mind a little alone time with my wife before we are swallowed up by dragons or darkspawn or witches living in the wild." Donnic shrugged although Aveline remained quiet.

"I think I'll share mine with Hawke." Isabela grinned in her direction as she hoisted up the anchor. "Leave the boys to play with themselves, since they like to do that anyway. We women can have our fun."

Sebastian placed a long-fingered hand on Hawke's lean shoulder and turned her to his direction. His jewel blue eyes were sincere as he advised, "You may want to see to Fenris, Hawke. He's been brooding ever since we departed the caves. You know how he feels about maleficarum. Maker knows I, too, do not like the idea of siding with an apostate but I know that it will be necessary for your quest to continue.."

"You use the word 'your' as if this is not your quest as well. Are you planning on leaving, Sebastian?"

The noble archer regarded her seriously, his normally kind face drawn inward. "Once we reach the Heartland, I plan to enlist Isabela's help in returning to Starkhaven."

"And Isabela…" Elesee felt as if she had begun to lose each member of her family all over again. The limbs of her family tree being snipped away, one after the other. Even Isabela, whom she had come to barely tolerate had been a constant staple, a break in all the humorless situations. And Sebastian, noble and kind-hearted.

She feared this disease would grow among the party until she had none save herself.

Would Fenris leave her again, as well?

"I am truly sorry, Elesee." Sebastian's apology was spoken out of sincerity and his eyes were tortured. "But my people need me and I have no wish to continue running from the Chantry. In return for the service you rendered by killing the murderers that took my family's lives, I will not utter a single word of your whereabouts; I vow it in front of the Maker Himself. I will try to dissuade the Divine from seeking you out but I cannot guarantee her Grace will be leniant now that the Chantry is near ruin.

"I have no doubt you will be safe one you are out of the hands of Thedas, wherever that may take you. You and Fenris are strong, capable fighters. I will pray Andraste and the Maker shall watch over your travels."

-X-X-X-X-

The ship jerked from side-to-side. How one managed to live like this, Fenris had no idea. The earth had never once shifted in this unnatural way. And so Fenris had deemed this form of travel archaic, barbaric, a torture in itself.

The ship lurched and groaned. He gripped the ornate guardrail lining the side of the netted bed. By the Maker, the noises a ship made! How would he ever find a moment's sleep in this hellish square room?

If Elesee were beside him—no, he would not think that way.

The Champion had yet to find and speak to him. The elven warrior told himself that this is what he wanted. That he did not _want_ her to seek him out. Not after the proposition she had made.

A witch! Elesee knew the way he felt about maleficarum. She knew it best of all. Had watched him take the heart of his blood mage master. Knowing this, perhaps that is why she had looked at him when she had said ' _I know some of you will not want to make this journey with me_.'

He would not—Maker, damn it all! Why did the ship keep lurching so sharply? He would not apologize for reacting as he had, but did feel sorrow for the way he had spoken to Elesee. Especially after all that had transpired between the two of them just the night before.

Fenris sighed as he finally decided his mind. He would convince Elesee that he had taken no issue with the idea of leaving known lands but they would only _speak_ with the witch without requesting help. No, the issue itself was not the _where_ , it was the _who_. He would travel to the ends of the world with, and for, his mate. Even if he had to slaughter the ancient witch to make that happen. Perhaps he only needed to remind her of that, before her decision was set in stone.

The door burst open.

"We're under attack!" Sebastian cried. The archer's face and sleeked-back hair were blood-spattered.

Just as the words had been spoken, Fenris's keen elven ears picked out the sounds of battle and of a woman crying out in pain. Stupid to have worried about such trivial things while Elesee remained in danger from the threat of the Seekers, the Circles, and any other vagrant looking for bounty.

Fear slashed away any remaining dark thoughts. He had to get to her. To secure her safety.

Time blurred as his heart raced, the lyrium scars buzzing like rivers of sulfur. One moment he gripped the hilt of his sword as they launched up the steps. In the next, his sword's wide blade had been brought in an upwards slash through three Rivaini marauders. Blood soaked his armor, sprayed crimson arcs through the air.

He tried to pinpoint Elesee's location through the mass of fighting bodies.

The sound of Sebastian's bow _thnk-_ ing and the whisper of his arrows were behind him.

He could hear Isabela's voice straining for someone to "Help me cut the rope! Get the grapples off!"

The Rivaini were everywhere, pouring off a swift ship grappled to the deck. Some bodies were tossed through the air, above the swarm, and landed with a splash.

The elf sent a silent prayer to the Maker that she was not in the water.

He saw Elesee's boomerang blade _Screaming Wind_ lying nearby, coated in blood, and felt a shock of panic twist his gut.

White-hot pain broke his moment of freedom. He turned on the woman that had sunk a knife hilt-deep into his ribs. The lyrium burst to life, making the knife wound feel like a paper-cut, as he returned the favor to the wench. He thrust a fist through her ribs, felt the strange sensation of her innards surrounding his searing flesh while the magic did its work and destroyed. His attacker's eyes rolled as she fell in a heap.

Fenris wheeled back around to the starboard, his body fully immersed in the inferno of the lyrium. Teeth bared, he threw himself at the nearest throng of attackers. The assault downed two of the five.

He stabbed a man in the eyes with his sharp fingered gloves without phasing his arm. One eyeball rolled off the deck.

A burst of full-phasing momentarily blinded the two that remained standing. They cried out and stabbed at the air. Fenris evaded their daggers and severed both of their heads with one fell swoop of his bastard sword.

The last group of Rivaini were at the bow.

Fenris could see Aveline's tall frame, flashes of her redhair as she bashed her shield against the face of one of the surrounding men. Donnic was the powerarm behind her defensive stance. Together they were unbeatable. The assaulters, with their numbers cut thin, were no match and were felled easily.

The Guard Captain's face drained of color as she collapsed with the last Rivaini.

"Isabella get the potions—" Donnic ordered.

"Almost there."

It was then, as Aveline fainted and Donnic fell to one knee, Fenris saw Elesee and the poison-green arrow that stuck straight out of the middle of her chest.


	5. Howling Ghosts Chapter 4

She knew this wasn't right. There was something she should be remembering. Something very important.

But as she floated along in ecstasy, she didn't _care_.

Her bones felt like liquid. Every hair stood on end. For the first time, she could breathe the gentle breeze that flowed over her skin like a silk sheet without anything weighing her down.

The caress of the sky was lyrium injected into her veins, each breeze a magical burst of song and color she didn't even know existed. The sun suspended mid-air, beaming light from its warm face. The light was a beacon, guiding her, straight into the heart of its fire. She could feel the heat slowly climbing when the sun drew closer.

…something—some _one_ she needed to remember….

Her attention kept wandering back to the sea on the slow climb to the sun. Something about the crystalline green water struck her as familiar.

The idea slipped from her mind as if it had grasped a fish too late.

X

"Is it working?"

Sebastian looked over at the elf gravely as his words disrupted any furiously paced prayers to the Maker.

He had no words to give that would satisfy the warrior's sorrow. If the Maker were to take the Champion, it would be His will. The former slave was not one willing to tolerate such words when it came to severe matters, as his faith was a fickle thing.

But the grieving would not see the look of pity on Sebastian's face for his eyes had never left his beloved's face.

The archer had never seen a man so grateful for a cursed talent than he in the moment when his lyrium-laced fingers withdrew the arrow carefully from within Hawke's cold, still body. His gaze was drawn to the blood lingering on the elf's fingertips, soaked into gritty black lines under his nails.

X

"I…" Isabela's voice broke. She had to swallow back mouthfuls of air, a feeble attempt to dry the saltwater nested in the corners of her eyes. "This isn't a poison I've ever encountered. They had to have known who we were in order to know what poisons we are familiar with. What boat we were travelling on. That damned dock master…"

The fury of the Maker's fire burned in green flames from Fenris's eyes as he scathed Isabela with a seething glare. Even her bones rattled with dread from the blast.

"I said: 'Is the potion working?'"

Her insides ashy with regret, she choked out a whimpered, "no."

X

Fenris forgot how to breathe. His head bowed against the weight of the words as he wilted against the woman he loved dying right beside him.

X

Aveline's fear flooded through her until the impact of it sent her knees shaking. The feeling was one of drinking a cold drink and feeling the water pump in slow circles as it wound its way through. Except this… this was a cold that was all over.

Donnic's arms were not enough to contain the storm riding through her body. She paced back and forth, a hand resting on her womb.

Her voice was taut with intensity. "We need to do something, Donnic. I cannot stand sitting here doing _nothing_ while Hawke is in the other room…" and she nearly had let the word escape her lips. A word she would not utter into being, lest the Maker hear her and make it so.

Deep within the confines of her heart, she could whisper the word _dead_. Although it seemed to echo and form and release itself into the air, a shade that howled and taunted.

Her husband looked at her knowingly, a shared knowledge between two like souls. Almost as if the word itself had fallen from her heart and into the air then into his ears.

They had been too late to save her.

X

What did hours matter? Days?

Elesee's lips were blue and not a single breath had escaped. Lips that he had kissed. Lips from which words were said, or shouted, or cried, or whispered, or moaned.

Every second without his beloved was another piece of his heart falling into the bottom of the ocean.

How could he have known that there were other forms of torture in this world, ones that did not involve chains and whips?

Danarius had never touched this part of him: his spirit. It had always been there, waiting in defiant silence, then bursting forth to life beneath her fingertips when Elesee had, for the first time, assured him he was not alone. When she had taught him how to read, to write, to stand as a free man, to begin life anew, to love.

Each second felt like another lyrium scar carved, burrowed, burned into his flesh.

He formed a protective cocoon around her empty body. He would be the armor to her flesh. He would be the bond that held her body and spirit together, Maker be damned, and he would not let her leave him alone again.

X

Sebastian sat top deck, his back pressed to the mast, as he scouted the surrounding sea. Isabela had strung a banner for help from above the sail, but it had yet to yield any results. As he shot a glance up at the flag, he had noticed that, for a moment, it had appeared as if there was something swimming in the sky—

A dragon with scales the size of Sebastian's hands circled through the air and cried the terrible scream of a thousand dying men. The red beast was a slash of blood spinning through the air.

There was a button on the inside of his wrist, blended in with the black leather. The intricate interworking of thread and piping filled the fingertips of the gloves with a shiny white resin. One stroke down the bowstring to give it a coat.

As he nocked the first arrow, he whispered, "Maker, guide my arrows true."

Within a half-second, the wind had been factored also the travelling speed of the dragon and the arc of the arrow as it would travel to its destination. He could almost _feel_ the flight path of the arrow, where he would need to strike, and trusted his instincts. After finding a satisfactory trajectory, the bowstring made an audible snap as it launched the arrow. The added stamina elixir gave the arrow such a forceful boost, a gaping hole was ripped in the cloud through which it passed.

But the arrow did not hit its mark.

Almost is if the dragon _knew_ what would be coming, it banked at the absolute last second.

The arrow was lost into the atmosphere without a single nick. That was the only shot he would have time to get off before the dragon would be on him.

The beast dove in a winding circle straight down, directly towards the ship and Sebastian, where he could only look on in surprised terror. His vision filled with the sight of deadly, yellow eyes, a throat filled with hissing flames before he shut his eyes against the impact and had braced himself for the final snap of teeth and bone.

"Open your eyes, human," a raspy voice demanded.

To his astonishment, instead of a dragon, a severe old woman stood before him adorned in burgundy and black dragon scales not dissimilar to the dragon that had almost made a meal of him. He was afraid if he stared into the witch's shadowed and cold, yellow eyes too long, he would see only a vast wealth of endless time that neither began nor ended, only existed and would fall into that bottomless pit.

The mage had wispy, white hair which fluttered in the wind, except the bits styled back to look identically like the dragon's, then tapered off with matching scarlet ties.

Powerful magic emanated from her ancient body in waves that nearly crushed the breath from his lungs. He had never encountered a magic this powerful before.

Sebastian's knuckles were white as he bellowed, "Who are you?"

Her answering smile was cold and calculating, formed by two thin dark-stained lips. "I am Flemeth. I suggest you take me to the girl before it is too late."


	6. Howling Ghosts Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Author's note: I can't believe I went there. I cried as I wrote this. I'm sorry, Aveline. I promise I'll make it up to you._

Sebastian cast a glance behind his shoulder, unsure of leaving the witch to the others, as he hurried off to tell Aveline and Donnic of the uninvited guest.

Fenris had not left Elesee's side in the three days since her last breath. He did not look up when Flemeth entered the room but her presence was inimitable. Magic had filled the chamber like too many clothes stuffed into a chest.

Isabela seemed unsurprised at the witch's sudden appearance. She folded her arms over her breasts, pressing the fleshy mounds together in a provocative way that was mostly a comfortable familiarity to soothe her nerves. "My, Flemeth, you're looking rather… horny. Finally get around to making a potion to appear more youthful?"

Flemeth's eyes narrowed in what could be construed as a smile, a simulation rather than a genuine show of appreciating humor.

"Something of that nature. If only I could have gotten a hold of your blood for the potion, pretty little sea-maid." Isabela's rebounding horror caused the witch's chalky laugh to move stiffly along the thick burgundy scales of the robe gathered at her throat. "Ah, however, I did not come here for your humor. That girl—" she extended one of her clawed gloves towards Elesee "—needs to live. I am here to remove the toxin."

And, for the first time in days, Fenris felt a spark of life return to his own empty body. He stiffened beside his mate.

With a voice barely audible against the grind of his vocal chords rubbing raw with the lack of drink, he asked, "You can save her?" Though he would not look the creature in the face. He would not let anyone see his desperation as carved and defined as the scars.

Yellow twinkled coyly in the witch's scrutiny. She reveled in the chaos such short-lived creatures dwelled in as she toyed with his patience before responding slowly, "Yes… But it _will_ come with a price."

This was a rule of magic he was familiar with. Magic, a creature of greed, never gave freely without taking something of equal or greater value.

Flemeth was no demon or mage but _other_ , and her quick tongue was mercurial in its intent, appearing to be of pure intention but harvesting none of the sort. Not long ago he had argued with Elesee regarding this same issue and the irony left a bitter taste of chagrin.

Too late, he had realized his mistake in berating Elesee for her choice in going to Flemeth. He should have realized Elesee would only do such a thing out of necessity, and that he had been rash, his hate for apostates clouding his judgment and trust in her. Maybe Anders _had_ been right in saying Elesee needed someone more open-minded.

He stared at Elesee's features and, for the thousandth time, imagined her lashes parting, opening like a flower in springtime to reveal the cerulean warmth that could level him with a single glance. She would smile at him and say, "Don't look so sad, it's unbecoming of you." And he would force a smile and she would laugh while teasing him that he looked more a wolf than elf, wondering vaguely if he was in fact a werewolf, but that couldn't be because he couldn't even grow a beard or chest hair. And then he would really smile, all the while knowing that her lips would press like the softest of petals to his. Her kiss, more exorbitant than of all wines he had ever tasted, a delicacy he could never tire of, a thing he would never take advantage of for the rest of his days.

Yes, he would do anything to have that again.

"Whatever the terms are, I accept."

"No, don't!" Aveline's cry was too late. "Don't do it, Fenris."

"It is done," the elf told her tiredly. His shadowed eyes were full of haunted memories that made Aveline shudder.

The true wolf lying in wait came in the form of an ancient woman, her smile toothy as she informed Fenris, "The terms are not yours to accept, drenuth ira tinuth."

The feathered pauldrons on his shoulders and the twin markings running up his neck flashed as he snarled at the Tevinter slur. Flemeth ignored the rebutle and Aveline could only hold her husband's hand in fear as the witch turned her undivided attention her way.

"You stand to lose the world's salvation if you do not choose this path. Her destiny is tied with the peace of all Thedas. If she is to fall now, everything will be askew with chaos. Your children and their children's children will suffer the fate of the world.

"But, to save her and to restore balance, you must lose that which you seek to protect above all. A life…" Claws greedily twitched towards Aveline's middle as she growled out the last, "for a life."

They could have well been a stone relief with the stillness that was the room, each unmoving, unblinking. All staring in horror at Aveline's shocked face, mouth still hanging open, one hand curled protectively over the fluttering in her stomach as the child within her womb readjusted its limbs. Donnic's hand was slick with sweat, his face the truest expression of pure terror.

"Aveline, _please_. I beg of you," Fenris choked out, the agony of guilt in brutal war with the dread of losing Elesee forever. "I have never asked you for anything—"

"You—you're asking too much. I _cannot_ give up my baby—my child! You cannot possibly expect this, Fenris." Aveline's chin wobbled defiantly before she pressed her face into her palms, unleashing a torrent of wails. Her voice was garbled as she shook her head over and over, not willing to accept that this was truly happening. "He—I was going to name him after Wesley. I _can't_."

Donnic's eyebrows twisted into a knot as he placed a consoling hand on the curve of his wife's bent neck. Never before had he known a moment of torture, and now, looking at Fenris he felt a kinsmanship he had never felt before. He took a deep breath and, with tears in his eyes, muttered gently, "We…" He had to pause to regain his composure before continuing. Twice he opened his mouth to speak before clenching his jaw and pressing onward. "We will try again, Aveline."

"Donnic—no! You can't ask me to do this! This—" But Donnic had already turned his face away, unable to stand her pleading eyes any longer. He shook his head, willing the sorrow away of seeing her face, the face of a woman set afire.

Aveline, seeing the fight with her husband lost, turned to Flemeth. The Captain, leaving behind all her pride and abhorrence to malificar, dropped to her knees and clutched the hems of Flemeth's robes.

"Anything else, Flemeth, I beg of you. _Anything_."

The witch remained as cold as her reptilian scales as she hissed, "You have nothing else I desire."

X

Benoit du Lac sat his daughter down during one of their many sparring lessons. The welt on her back _felt_ red and blistered, her heartbeat making the swelling rub against the rough cotton twill roughly. She pleaded over and over for her father to rub the salve from a healing potion over her skin, but he would not.

"This is a very important lesson," her father instructed her.

The knight began to pace, the sun glinting against the bright strawberry of his hair. Benoit paused only when she whimpered. His gray eyes were hard as stone and just as unforgiving.

"Are you listening, Aveline?" her father's voice glistened over her given name without much notice, but she felt the lash of that word as if it were a wooden sword as well. With her chin held high, she nodded once, sharply.

"Good. I will only say this to you once:

"You cannot always defend against everything. There are some wounds that will never heal. In war, there are casualties. You must be willing to accept this, or the torment will follow you for the rest of your days."

The girl, so young at the time, could not see the pain saying this caused her father. The subtle nuances that came from age and experience and hard-fought battles with friends lost along the way. She only saw the man as spiteful, full of regret at having ever borned a daughter instead of a male to carry on his line.

And now, as the witch Flemeth drew the life of her son from within her womb in just one quick flick of her wrist, Aveline understood her father's words, could see her memory re-write itself as the realization registered. Some lessons had to be learned firsthand to truly be able to comprehend the meaning behind them.


End file.
